Hickville Confessions: A Hickville High Novel (2 page)

Finally she let out a breath and said, “I saw you dancing. What happened to your date?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t have a date. I—ah—was asked to leave.”

“What’d you do?”

“Got in a fight.”

“Austin McCoy?”

“Eric Perez.”

She patted her arms with the cloth. “I know Eric. He’s in the Purity Club. I thought you guys were friends.”

“Yeah. Not so much.” His body tensed as he thought about the note his sister had written. Eric had let him believe it was for Austin. When Justin figured out what Eric had done to his sister, the bastard had laughed. He’d effing laughed.

“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re about to explode.”

He looked at the red marks on her arms and blew out a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess we both had our friends turn on us tonight.”

“They were never my friends.” She pulled Justin’s suit coat up over her shoulders. “I have to get my stuff from Macey. I don’t even have my cell phone.”

“I’ll help you.” He started the truck.

“How?”

“Do you know her number?” He pulled his phone from the center console.

“Not a clue.”

He scrolled through his contacts. “I don’t think I know anybody who’d have her number.” He tossed his phone back on the console. “We’ll just go there. Give me directions.”

“No. I can’t. I don’t want to see them.”

“I’ll get your stuff. You can stay in the truck.” She was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “You’ll be safe. They won’t even know you’re in my truck.”

“No—just no.” Fear flashed in her eyes. He needed to back off.

“Okay.” He looked at the clock on the dash. It was already after midnight. “What do you want to do?”

“Just be.”

What the hell did that mean?
“O… kay. So do you want to hang out here for awhile?”

She nodded and got out of the truck.

Shit.
He followed her to the swings. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She sat and dug her painted toes in the dirt. He liked the little silver ring on her middle toe.

He rolled the bottoms of his trousers to midcalf and sat on the swing next to her. The dirt felt good on his bare feet. A breeze wafted through the air carrying a soapy scent. He smiled and looked at the girl with the clumpy hair.

“What?”

“You smell like Dawn dish soap.”

“Didn’t you know? It’s all the rage.” She smiled back and his gut clenched.

He’d sat at the table behind her in Shop for weeks and, other than her comment on her shirt, they’d never spoken. Not even a hello. He wasn’t usually shy around girls, but most girls didn’t look past him like he was invisible either. Now, here she was, next to him on a swing in the middle of the night. He twisted the swing toward her. “So, other than tonight, how do you like Hillside?”

“It’s different from Chicago, that’s for sure. My dad grew up here. When the economy went south, so did we. He bought the feed store from my uncle. I like working in the store.”

He lifted his feet and let the swing rock back and forth. “What was life like in Chicago?”

She pushed off with her feet and gained altitude. “Life in Chicago was about as different as it gets.”

“How so?”

“For starters, we didn’t live in an ancient farmhouse. We actually had places to shop and I went to the Fine Arts Academy.”

“That explains Shop class.”

“Yes, and I paint. I love it all, but my favorite is woodworking. Something about the smell of the wood as it’s being cut….” She leaned forward and looked at him. For the first time since he’d rescued her, she didn’t look freaked out. “Crazy, huh?”

“No. Not crazy.” He was tempted to tell her that he understood art because of Chelsea. But saying
I get it because my dead sister was an artist
just didn’t sound right.

She leaned back and pumped the swing higher. He caught up to her. They swung in sync, the only noise the squeak of the chains. The wind felt good on his face. He looked at her to ask if it stung her raw skin. She wore a smile, but it looked forced and tears leaked from her closed eyes.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms and squeeze away all the shit that had happened to her. He needed to take her home where her parents could deal with what those bitches had done to her. He let his swing stop, and then with the softest voice he could manage, he called, “Ryan.” She didn’t answer, but she let her swing slow too. “Ryan, I’m going to take you home now.”

She nodded and dragged her feet until the swing stopped. When they stood, he couldn’t help himself. He pulled her into a hug. She didn’t wrap her arms around him, but she relaxed against his chest. He held her tight and rested his chin on the top of her head. His heart warmed at the feel of her pressed against him. He wanted to be her protector, to keep her safe from anybody who’d make her cry.

As if she’d read his thoughts, she stiffened and pushed out of his embrace. “Well, that’s enough of that.” She took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

And just like that, the vulnerability he’d seen disappeared. She stretched to her full height and walked to the truck.

He followed and started the engine. “Do you want to call your parents and warn them we’re coming?”

Her stomach growled and she gave him a sideways look. “Is there anything open at three in the morning?”

“Only gas stations.”

“Can you spot me a few bucks?”

“Yeah.” He pulled from the parking lot and headed toward the Quick Stop.

Ryan’s arms burned and her face felt like it had been scraped with a cheese grater. Justin was right; she needed to go home and let her mom care for her. The explanations, rehashing the shame she’d already brought her family—it was all just too much to think about now.

It didn’t matter that her parents had said that what had happened to her in Chicago wasn’t her fault. She knew in her heart that it was. She’d made the decision to go to the party. If she hadn’t gone, if she hadn’t gotten drunk and high… if… if… if. She was sick of
if
s
.
There had been no
if
s in the fallout after it happened. She’d get high at the drop of a hat. And the sex? Well, what was the use in saying no when she’d already said yes?

She’d wanted out of that life, though. Her therapist said that getting caught with her dad’s boss’s son was a “cry for help.” She begged to differ. It was trusting an idiot who’d forgotten to lock the door.

The anger, pain, and tears in her dad’s eyes when he found them naked on his office couch was something she couldn’t erase from her brain—and neither was the way she’d laughed about it. Somehow that night, reason had penetrated her drugged-up brain and she’d made a decision to change. She didn’t know how, but she was going to find the good girl she hoped was still inside her. But the damage had been done and things had unraveled for the Quinn family at warp speed.

She pressed the spirit towel to her face as Justin parked in front of the Quick Stop. He turned to her. “What do you want? I’ll run in.”

“Junk food. I’m starving.” Her lips felt like they had a sudden outbreak of cold sores and the slightest movement of her mouth sent pinpricks of pain across her face. She spoke flatly—not quite opening her mouth enough to fully get the words out. She tried not to wince. Judging by the expression on Justin’s face, she hadn’t been successful.

“Jeez. Don’t talk—just nod, or shake your head. Chips? Candy? Soda?”

She nodded at all of the choices.

He slipped his bare feet into his loafers and opened the truck door. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him all the way into the store. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed Justin Hayes. He was the kind of guy who could get her into trouble, so she’d made an effort to look past him in Shop class. It wasn’t just the football-player frame, or the twin dimples, or the way his dark brown hair seemed to fall over his Tootsie Roll eyes in just the right way. He had a player reputation with a bagful of issues. He hated her sister’s
friend
, Austin McCoy. Kelsey had actually had to rescue Austin after Justin had attacked him in the parking lot of a coffee house.

Ryan had had enough crazy for one lifetime. So while tonight he was her rescuer, as soon as she mustered the courage to face her parents, she’d place him back in the People to Avoid category.

Justin came back carrying two plastic sacks full of crap, and flashed those twin dimples at her as he climbed into the truck. “Okay, so we have chips.” He pulled out bags of Nacho Cheese tortilla chips, corn chips, and Cool Ranch potato chips. “We have coke.” He handed her a can of Dr. Pepper, a Coke, and a Sprite. He opened the other bag. “Now in the candy section, we have M&M’s—plain and peanut—Snickers, and to add variety, Pixy Stix.”

“What? No dip?”

Those dimples deepened. “What do you want? I’ll go back.” He reached for the door.

She caught his arm. “Kidding. This is great.”

He sat back. “So, are we gonna sit in front of the Quick Stop and pig out or do you want to go somewhere?”

“Let’s drive.”

“Where?”

She held the wet cloth against her mouth and found it easier to talk. “Anywhere. Show me
your
town.” She opened the bag of potato chips. “Which drink do you want?”

“Either Coke or DP.”

She handed him the Coke and opened the DP for herself. He started the truck and pulled from the parking space. “My town?”

She nodded. “What makes Hillside special to you?” She held out the bag and he took a few chips. “Drive me through your life.”

He made a right at the light and snaked through the quiet streets of Hillside to the hospital. “This is where it all began.”

“Okay, that’s taking it way back. Fast forward a little.” She bit into a Cool Ranch chip and discovered a new hell. She fanned her face. “Salt bad.” With one hand she pressed the towel to her eyes to catch any wayward tears before the salt from
those
seared her cheeks. With the other hand she held the can against her sore, swollen lips.
Jesus. I look like a freak.

When the burn eased, she lowered the drink and towel and cut her eyes to Justin.

He’d half turned in his seat and those cute little dimples weren’t showing anymore. His face was too serious, his eyes too full of concern. “How about some ibuprofen? I can go back and get you some.”

“What, are you sixty? Who calls it that?”
Do not smile. Don’t smile. Ouch. You shouldn’t have smiled.

“My parents are nurses. So, drugs or no?”

“No. Drive.”
And stop making me smile.

He drove past the elementary school and pointed to a field just beyond the playground. “That’s where I learned to play ball.” He slowed to a stop and gazed across the empty field. “Back then we were all friends—Austin, Travis, Eric, and me. We used to squirrel hunt at Austin’s place. His mom would let us camp out in the woods near their house—probably to keep us away from Austin’s dad. He was freaking crazy. There’s this clearing on top of a hill. You can see the valley below. It’s amazing. At night the stars are so bright it feels like you could reach up and snatch them.” He drove forward again. “I guess that’s where I spent most of my days. What about you? You ever hunt squirrel?”

She shook her head. Hunting for her had been completely different. Magnificent Mile different.

“So there’s not a lot to see in Hillside. But I have an idea of another place we can go. Ever been to the trestle?”

She pressed the cloth to her mouth. “No. But I thought football players were banned from there.”

“We’re banned from drinking at the trestle. Besides, at four in the morning, nobody will be there. But we don’t have to go. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No. Let’s go to the trestle.”

As he guided the truck down the highway, the only sound was the radio and Justin crunching the rest of the chips. Ryan had opted for the M&M’s. She sat sideways in her seat, watched Justin as he drove, and wished she had her sketchpad.

He had a nice profile, even with the little zit on his cheek. His hair had fallen across his forehead, almost covering his thick brows, and his lips were full and even. But as she studied him, she saw something else. It was slight, but there were almost invisible lines angling down from his cheekbones. Her art teacher in Chicago called them
courage lines
. He said they appeared when people had survived a great tragedy.

She knew Justin’s sister had been killed in a car accident a few years earlier. Was that where he’d earned those lines?

He exited the freeway and smiled at her as he signaled a right turn. In a flash those lines disappeared, replaced by the boyish dimples. “Feeling better?”

She nodded. It was a lie. Her face, chest, and arms were raw and swelling. She did not feel better. But she was better than she would be when she got home. She hoped she could sneak into the house before they saw that she wore nothing over her undies but Justin Hayes’s football jersey.

He exited onto a dirt road. A rusted, bullet-hole-riddled Bridge is Out sign was illuminated briefly by the headlights. “We’re here.” He pulled to a grassy area close to the bridge. The full moon lit the rusted metal of the trestle. “So what do you think of our river?”

“River? Where?”
Crap. Smiled again.

“It’s not the Chicago River. But it’s a great place to hang out.” He raised his brows as though he were waiting for her approval.

“It’s cute.”

He turned the engine off, but the radio played on. He crumpled the empty chip bag and stuffed it in one of the plastic sacks. He sat back and took a long swig of Coke. When he turned to her, she saw more than concern in his face. Repulsion? “Ryan, what happened to you tonight was horrible. I don’t know why they did it and I don’t really care. Anybody who’d do that to another human being is sick.”

God, how bad was her face? What if they’d scarred her for life?

She flicked the visor down and checked her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a circular sander had attacked her. Most of the damage was around her mouth. Tears threatened again, followed by a wave of fear that her face might be permanently damaged.

She slung open the passenger door, jumped from the truck, and ran toward the water. Justin followed, hollering frantically, “Ryan! Wait!” As she reached the bank, he grabbed her and pulled her back. He held her against him. “Don’t. You don’t know what’s down there.”

She pushed him away. “I wasn’t going to jump.”

He took a step back and held up his hands. “I’m sorry. The way you took off, I thought…”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not that stupid. I just needed some air. Besides, I don’t want them to get away with this.” She hadn’t realized it until she’d said the words, but she was pissed. She may not have qualified for the Purity Club, but nobody deserved what they’d done to her. A cool breeze kicked up, offering solace to her face and strength to her spirit.

She turned and faced the water with her arms outstretched in the wind. From that horrible night at Loren’s party two years ago until tonight, she’d let people dictate her actions. “I will not be a victim.”

“Good.” He reached toward her and she stepped away.

“Tonight, the warrior is born.”
Hell, yeah. If this were a movie, Katie Perry would be singing
Roar
in the background.

“Damn right.” This time he didn’t try to touch her, but he looked totally at a loss for what to do. “Ah, hey, Ryan? Wanna take that warrior attitude back a few feet? You are real close to the edge of the cliff. You can’t see it in the dark, but it’s about a ten-foot drop to limestone.”

She dug her toes in and a wisp of dirt fell away under them. She jumped back and fell on her bottom. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He helped her up. “You were having a moment.” He flashed those dimples. “Truck?”

“Yeah.” She felt a little shaky as she walked back. She wasn’t sure if it was from her newfound strength, nearly falling to her death, or those dimples. But holy crap, if it was the dimples, it’d destroy her.

So I won’t let it be the dimples. After tonight, we’ll be strangers again.

*

Justin shivered as he climbed behind the wheel. “Mind if I turn the heat on?” She shook her head and he started the engine. This had to be the weirdest night of his entire life. Who was this girl? She’d scared the crap out of him when she’d torn out toward the river. His heart pounded just thinking about what could have happened.

He wasn’t sure if she was crazy or cool, but either way, he liked it. She curled up sideways on the passenger side again and he spread his suit coat over her. He watched her try not to open her mouth as a yawn escaped, and his gut tightened at the pain that crossed her face when she failed. He clenched the steering wheel to keep from reaching out to her. He had a feeling that would win him another view of the warrior.

It was after five and the sun was breaking on the horizon. He turned to her. “Ryan, I’m taking you home.” It wasn’t a question and she didn’t argue. She nodded and tried to stifle another yawn.

She gave him directions and he backed up. The trestle was halfway between Hillside and Spring Creek. Her house was on the opposite side of Hillside—at least thirty minutes. She rested her head on the console between their seats and was asleep before he hit the town limit. He ignored the urge to stroke her soap-matted hair.

What the hell had happened tonight? He should thank Eric for being such a douche. If he hadn’t been kicked out of the dance, he’d never have driven by the fountain at the exact moment when Warrior Ryan needed a rescue. He let out a sigh. She was amazing, incredible, extremely hot—and he couldn’t wait to get to know her better.